And beats, as though it entrance sought, against the window pane;
’Twas such a night as witches love, when on the blasted heath,
Beneath the tree where swings the corpse, they lead the dance of death;
’Twas such a night as women dread, and kneeling ere they sleep,
Implore God’s grace for husbands, sons, and brothers on the deep;
’Twas such a night as trav’llers hate, and seek the nearest roof,
Distrusting Cording’s overcoats and capes of waterproof.
And one of this last-mentioned class now gains the castle door,
And rings the bell more loudly than it e’er was rung before,
And passing by the warder grim, the wond’ring vassals all,